


i can't decide (whether you should live or die)

by orphan_account



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drabble, F/F, Post S2, Villaneve, when ur gf rejects u so u have no choice but to shoot her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-07-06 17:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19838695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eve wakes up.





	i can't decide (whether you should live or die)

**Author's Note:**

> what's up gaymers this is my first killing eve/villaneve fic so go easy on me!  
> you can find me at @agentpolastri on tumblr where i progressively lose my shit over KE and entertain other shitposts.

Eve wakes up, and she sees the sterile white ceiling tiles staring back at her. 

Eve wakes up, and she sees a nurse hovering over the bed to reach for the IV bag on the other side.

Eve wakes up, and the only thing that greets her is an empty hospital room.

It is only when she becomes used to the absence of presence that the equilibrium is disturbed.

This time, Eve wakes up and Villanelle sits a few feet away from her in an uncomfortable chair. There's an open box in her lap with a half-eaten pastry as she flips through a _Glamour_ magazine. She wears clunky boots and sunglasses and the agent nearly laughs at how unrelated those two articles seem to be. 

Or maybe that was the morphine.

_Weirdly serene,_ she thinks, and that's when she knows it's the morphine. Eve briefly wonders if she would have been more frightened if the assassin hadn't shown up. 

Villanelle hums, but doesn't look up from the magazine in her hands. 

Eve's tongue feels like cotton as she speaks. Her voice sounds like a rusty gate.

"You shot me."

As quick as a whip: "You stabbed me, so now we are even. Maybe we will match," Villanelle replies. She licks her finger before turning the page, and Eve feels mildly revolted. 

She lets her head fall back against the pillow with a heaving sigh. 

The sun in the room is too bright, and its too hot, and the covers are _itchy_ and the _bandages_ are itchy and Eve thinks that she's going to go insane if she has to lay here in silence with the assassin no less than six feet away from her. 

Luckily, Villanelle interrupts the stalling of conversation. 

"The last time I was in a hospital, I had to wear the most disgusting pair of crocs I had ever seen." A pause. "Crocs are an abomination to footwear." 

Eve finally props herself up using a pillow and a lot of effort. She skims her tongue over the surface of her teeth before asking the inevitable, attempting to keep her impatience to a minimum:

" _Why_ are you here, Villanelle?"

This makes her look up from the magazine. Her gaze is sharp, yet the way her mouth imperceptibly turns down suggests Eve is missing something.

"I am taking care of you," she responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.


End file.
